DO not beguile my heart, Because thou art My power and wisdome. Put me not to shame, Because I am Thy clay that weeps, thy dust that calls. Thou art the Lord of glorie; The deed and storie Are both thy due: but I a silly flie, That live or die According as the weather falls. Art thou all justice, Lord? Shows not thy work More attributes? Am I all throat or eye, To weep or crie? Have I no parts but those of grief? Let not thy wrathfull power Afflict my houre, My inch of life: or let thy gracious power Contract my houre, That I may climbe and finde relief.
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